Wet For Her Warriors (Book 5 of the WILD -- Warriors Intense in Love & Domination -- Boys of Special Forces) (8 page)

BOOK: Wet For Her Warriors (Book 5 of the WILD -- Warriors Intense in Love & Domination -- Boys of Special Forces)
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Holy shit. He really
was a satyr. A half-demon warrior sent here from some fantasy land to tempt her
down the path of completely nasty acts and wanton ways…because he knew she’d
willingly follow.

The thought sang
through what was left of her mind as she caressed the knob of his shaft. She
whimpered as she found the slit that leaked hot milk at her touch. After
collecting the juice as he demanded, she thrust her finger deep into her mouth,
prompting a guttural groan of encouragement from behind.

“Good. So damn
good, starshine.”

He shoved harder,
and she whimpered at watching his swollen red crown surge from the valley of
her legs. She reached down and grabbed him again, stroking his throbbing tip.
At the same time, he swept up his other hand and pinched one of her nipples. A
high yelp burst from her. Kellan quickened his thrusts.

“Look at me
again.”

She quickly
obeyed, filling her vision with his face in the mirror, so dark and intense, twisted
in erotic agony. In response, her body shook and wept, engulfed by lust, on
fire with need.

“Now touch
yourself,” he directed. “Do it, Lani. Rub your hard little clit for me.”

She obeyed
him—with a twist. Instead of using her fingers, she kept her hold on his shaft,
and rammed it against the ridge of her arousal as a flesh-and-blood vibrator. He
gave an approving grunt while his massive thighs quaked against hers. With his
eyes still on her in the mirror, he openly bit into her neck. She yelped as her
sex came alive, pinged by a million more jolts of awakening. Her vagina
clenched. Her pussy pulsed.

“Kellan!” She
struggled to keep it from turning into a scream, all too aware they weren’t
exactly alone.

He answered with
another possessive bite, this time on her ear. “My name on your lips turns my
cock to stone, sweetheart.”

They weren’t
empty words. His erection was a wand of pure heat against the stiff ridge of
her need, coaxing it into higher peaks, until there was no way to go but into
the hottest fire her body could generate. She gasped and started thrusting back
against him.. “
Ke ˋale ne ke kai
. Kellan, I’m—I’m going to—”

He took the hand
at her breast and swiped it to her forehead, keeping her cheek pinned to his
jaw, burning his glorious scruff into her skin. “And I’m going to watch,
starshine. No closing your eyes. Let me see. All of it.”

As the waves of
euphoria slammed her and pulled her under, a breathtaking smile took over his
face. A second later, the look turned into a passionate growl. His teeth
clenched as he lifted her a little, high enough for him to release thick white streams
of his seed into the sink.

For a long
second, their stares held in the mirror while their bodies heaved in unison. For
an extended moment, Lani still didn’t move. She didn’t want to. Her limbs and
gaze were  tethered in place, locked to him in that steam-clouded make-believe
of the mirror. She was bound by the intensity of him. Riveted by the effortless
strength of him. Spellbound by the burnished beauty of his form…and the fathoms
of feeling in his eyes…

What the hell
are you doing? “Fathoms of feeling?” What kind of poetic garbage is that? You
don’t have time for poetry. Or intensity. Or thinking of this as anything beyond
what it is: a pleasant distraction for you both. End of story, Hokulani.

If only he
wouldn’t keep staring at her like they’d suddenly turned into the last two
people on earth.

“I…I need to get
into the shower. I still have some work to do tonight.”

It wasn’t a lie.
Before she’d patrolled the beach and found him and Bommer playing the sand flea
hustle, she’d sequestered herself in the office trying to determine how to get
the bust in the north fence fixed, pay for Leo’s next semester at school, and
re-file the permits to reopen the B&B. She’d been pondering a hitch over to
Honolulu with Jean-Paul on the sea plane. Maybe the authorities there weren’t
in Gunter’s back pocket, and she’d be able to bypass the mess that the man had
created for her with the hospitality permits office here. Dear God, she hoped
so…

But that meant
jerking herself away from stupid mirrors and the beautiful satyrs in them, and
forcing herself back to real life again.

Luckily—perhaps
eerily—Kellan seemed to understood that. “You got coffee around? I’ll be
looking after T, so it’ll be a long night for both of us. I can brew a pot.”

“Thanks.” She
smiled in lieu of kissing him again. Gods only knew where that would lead.
Being around the man was starting to translate into a deep need to touch
him—and more.

Dangerous
thoughts. Tendencies she couldn’t germinate for another second.

Yep. Time for
office sequestration again. A dose of reality would do her good, at least until
the next time she could let Kellan carry her off into a perfect pretense of
happiness for another treasured hour or two.

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

Tait groaned. It
hurt. Well, no shit. When one’s mouth had been turned into the Sahara, vocal
action of any kind was doomed to be torture. That didn’t excuse the camel who’d
decided to stomp on his head. To make things feel better, he fantasized about pulling
out a rifle and blowing the animal’s head off. Which would do nothing, because
camels were malicious sons-of-bitches who would survive the nuclear holocaust
along with cockroaches and reality TV stars.

A sound seeped
into his senses, flipping his daydreams like card tables. A voice…feminine yet
a little feral…throaty and sultry threaded into a music he longed to hear
better. He’d recognized it, didn’t he? How? From where?

The woman
laughed. More sexy-husky. Lots more.
Fuck
. He
had
heard that
sound before.

You going soft
on me, Weasley? Seriously?

His eyes flew
open. Sunshine blinded him. His chest imploded on itself.

“Luna.” Why was
it just a scrape on the air? He swallowed, struggling for moisture to blurt it
louder, but his jaw and mouth
really
hurt. Everything hurt. God
damn
,
that light was bright. Maybe it wasn’t the sun at all. Maybe he’d finally
succeeded at drinking himself to death, and was now locked in some weird ether
between Heaven and Hell. Maybe his crazy little woman was taunting him, just to
get him moving again. And damn it, she was right.

You’re asking
for one hell of a red ass, aren’t you, beautiful? Believe me, it’ll be my
pleasure to deliver, once I catch you again…

The woman,
beyond the pale blue walls that met his gaze, had the nerve to laugh louder.
She was instantly shushed. The silence police had a man’s timbre. “Slash?” He
forced his head up. Damn it, someone needed to turn off the room’s spin cycle.
Hardwood floors, potted plants, and wicker furniture mashed together in his
vision. “Fuuuck…”

“T?” Kellan
appeared, though he was sideways. Tait blinked, fighting to keep focus as his
friend crouched down. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”
He lowered his head, realizing that it sank against a pillow that smelled like
verbena and coconut. Some compassionate soul had draped him in a blanket that
smelled the same. Kell would do a lot of things for him, but the tuck-tuck
action with the great-smelling linens? Not a chance.

“Where am I?
This isn’t Franz’s place.”

Kellan chuckled.
“Were you that obliterated last night?”

He managed to
wobble his head, hoping it passed for a shake. “Just hurts to think.” After a
coarse grunt, he muttered, “We were on the beach. You threw my bottle away. And
then we wrestled and—”

Fuck
.

The memory
gutted his voice. Filled his mind. Drowned him in desire. The cascade of black
hair kissed by lavender lights. The wildcat-bright eyes. The body a man would
commit major crimes for. But more than anything, the flame of inner spirit
his
soul recognized at once…a fire he hadn’t experienced since one intense week in
LA, during one of the most life-changing missions of his career…

A spark that
flickered, hesitant but bright, deep inside him once more…

Especially as
she walked into the room.

Tait swallowed
hard against a mix of anguish and exhilaration.
She isn’t Luna, you
hung-over dickbrain
. His mind rammed it as a command, and his gut finally, reluctantly
obeyed. He’d scattered Luna’s ashes over Puget Sound himself, for fuck’s sake.
Nothing—
nobody—
was going to magically nullify that fact.

Hokulani. His
mind made it past the haze of last night to recall her name. He’d fiddled
around with enough of the South Pacific dialects during language training to
realize the last half of it meant “heavenly.” Though that little tidbit had
escaped him last night, he still remembered thinking how he’d stared at her
with dreamy fixation, considering the word perfect for her.

Bommer, you’re a
fucking cheese bag
.

Funny, how much
fortitude a man could get from booze in one moment—and how much regret a few
hours later.

Okay, maybe more
than a few hours.

He glanced out
the window next to the couch. The palms and banyans swayed in a gentle breeze.
Cotton ball clouds lazed in the sky. The squalls of yesterday had given way to
golden sunshine, though the shadows indicated it was somewhere between sunrise
and noon.

“Shit,” he
mumbled. “How long was I out?”

“About thirteen
hours,” Kellan supplied.

“What the hell?”
He shoved to an upright position. The room played shake, rattle, and roll
again, but that didn’t stop him from whacking Kell’s shoulder. “Why the hell
didn’t you wake me up, asswipe?”

“Because I
wouldn’t let him.”

The assertion
came from the woman who now stood at the other end of the couch, arms folded
and lips pursed. Her hair was piled into a cute bun with chopstick thingies poking
from it, and she wore a flowery sundress with a built-in bra that pushed her
breasts into better position than her damn bikini had. T tried not to fixate on
how those incredible mounds were positioned in the scoop of the dress, so
perfect for someone to just reach in and coax them into erection, before
pinching hard and delighting in her squeal…

He dropped his
line of vision to her knees, but even those were beautiful. Though the dress
covered her to mid-thigh, he saw more than enough to remind him of the cocoa
cream curves beneath…especially if a guy could envision those gorgeous legs wrapped
high around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper as he sank his dick deep
and—

Think of
something else
.

He’d be fine in
a second, as long as she didn’t start tapping one of those adorable feet with
the turquoise toe polish adorned with little white flowers. The toe-tapping was
always Luna’s thing. If the goddess started it, too, he really wouldn’t be
responsible for his headspace anymore.

“I wouldn’t let
him because clearly you needed some sleep.” No toe taps. Thank fuck. But hell,
the way she shifted from one foot to the other, ending with a confident hip
pop, might have been just as unbalancing. “And I’m the boss of the house.”

Kellan flashed a
glance that teetered on an eye roll. “Yep. She’s the boss.”

“Hey.” She made
the word a reprimand while jamming her toe into Kell’s thigh, toppling him over.
Tait watched in wordless wonder while his friend snickered up at her. He turned
his stare back at Hokulani.

Who are you and
what have you done with the tight ass I call a partner? He looks a lot like
this bozo here…?

“So I crashed on
your couch all night?” he asked, instead.

“Wasn’t like it
was an inconvenience,” she murmured with a small smile. “Especially after the
way you threw yourself at Gunter’s gang for me.”

A confused frown
hunkered his brows. In weird chunks, the rest of last night’s events flashed
back to him. The Escalades. The pretty pouts. The shitloads of hair product. All
Benson and his goons had been missing was their fashion ramp. It had been a funny
joke at the time—until he’d goaded them all on.

“Damn,” he
muttered. It all returned to him now. The pretty boy’s name had been Casey. He’d
goaded the kid into punching him first, and had made sure Casey would go home
by way of the ER, before the rest of the pack descended on him. He didn’t
remember too much more after that, likely a good thing. “Guess that’ll teach me
to pull the Rambo act.”

Hokulani laughed
and took his hand. “Rambo’s a guy in a movie with five stunt doubles, Sergeant.
What you did was real-life bravery, and I’m grateful.”

Before he could
think of how to react, the strange flicker of an expression on Kell’s face
distracted him—but it disappeared quickly as it came. His friend stood again.
“You hungry, man? Lani made this killer scramble shit with eggs, Spam, bacon,
and pineapple. Good stuff. There’s still a lot left.”

Lani
?

“Yeah.” He
scowled again, feeling like he’d been thrust into the middle of an ongoing op
without proper intel. His senses, trained to gather every speck of data that
they could, started firing on all cylinders again, but his mind didn’t have any
grid to process anything on. “Yeah, uhhh, that sounds good. Thanks.”

“Cool.” Lani
beamed like she’d just been asked to serve her Spam eggs to the president.
“I’ll be right back.”

Kellan smiled at
her. “I can help, sweets.”

Sweets
?

Kell barely
tolerated foreplay. What the hell was he doing, tossing around a word like
sweets
?

Despite how the
room spun again, making the rocks in his head tumble into new piles of pain, he
swung his legs out then stood. He barely suppressed a groan while fighting the
urge to sink back to the couch. But he’d learned a thousand new forms of fortitude
in the last six months, and those lessons came in handy now. He had to keep an
eye on Kell. He loved the man as equally as he loved his biological brother,
but he also knew
Kell as well as Shay—in a few ways, perhaps better.
What was the guy’s game here, and why was he running it on a jewel like
Hokulani Kail? She wasn’t his type. Correction: she was out of his league.

He moved across
the living and dining rooms as quietly as he could, drawn closer to the kitchen
door by the cadence of a warm conversation. Kellan’s distinct timbre was
balanced by the velvet of Hokulani’s tone, sprinkled with the soft rasps of her
laughter. He stopped for a second, just listening to the sound. Damn. A laugh
like that could keep a man going in a shitty gun battle, inspire him to survive
torture, to keep his ass moving under horrendous mission conditions. It was a
sound made for pillow talk and private jokes—

And for
prefacing the kind of kiss that Kellan pressed to her neck now.

Tait pressed
open the kitchen door to observe them in profile, with Kell pressing himself
against Lani’s back as she scooped eggs from a skillet. He pressed both hands
against the fronts of her thighs, using the grip to fit both gorgeous globes of
her ass against his crotch. His head dipped against her neck and he’d
apparently gone in for teeth action on the nuzzle, since she gave a protesting
squeal before giggling again. Kellan mumbled something to her, though Tait
didn’t hear it past the sudden, raging thunder in his ears.

He shoved on the
door. It slammed against the wall with a
whap
. The pair at the stove
snapped their heads up like a pair of new boot camp nuggets caught sleeping in,
eyes wide and mouths open.

“T-Bomb. You
okay?”

Was the man
expecting an honest answer to that? When all Tait wanted to do was haul his
skanky ass from the woman and send him flying across the breakfast bar?

“You fucked
her.”

Hokulani set the
plate down with a clatter. “Excuse me?”

Kellan stroked
her back gently. The action spoke volumes. Significant ones. The fury thickened
at the corners of Tait’s vision. In so many ways, he realized this didn’t make
sense. In so many more, it made all the sense in the world.

“I’m going to echo
that,” Kell stated. “Tait, what’re you so—”

“You fucked
her.” He bellowed it this time. “On the first goddamn night you met her, you
fucked her. Yes or no, Slash the magical man slut?”

Kell’s jaw
turned to steel. His eyes darkened to the same color. “That was uncalled for,
man. I’m being nothing short of brutally honest here, with Lani
and
myself. Even so, I don’t see what happened last night, while you were in an
alcoholic stupor, has to do with—”

“It has to do
with
everything
, you moron. With a woman like her,” —he forced his gaze to
lock on Kellan, certain he’d be searching for Hokulani’s Bowie knife again if
he even glimpsed her right now— “you don’t get to be ‘brutally honest’. You
don’t
get to compartmentalize!” Shit. He was pissed enough to get physical, anyway.
The hard teak of the nearest cabinet door sent a nice slice of pain through the
fist he pounded into it. “You don’t put her in a box like the rest of your crotch
bunnies!”

“Crotch
bunnies?” Hokulani huffed hard. “Okay, hold on—”

“Can’t you
fucking see that?” He wheeled back toward Kell with locked teeth. “Can’t you
see that she—”

“Is standing
right here?” The shout came with her brutal shove into the middle of his chest.
“And
she
can think and speak for herself?” She kept on going. flattening
him against the cabinet he’d just punched.

Kellan didn’t
miss the chance to level a gratified grunt from across the kitchen, making Tait
pitch forward again. “You disgusting pussy player! You’ll run any game to make
sure your sausage gets extra juice, huh?”

Hokulani dug her
palm harder into his sternum. “Back off, Sergeant. Now!”

That order
apparently didn’t apply to Kellan. The guy John Wayne’d it across the room, shoulders
back and hands splayed. “You know, T, I want to laugh at that. I have nothing
to hide from anyone here about the sincerity of my motives, but are you going
to even listen?” He tossed a head-to-toe stare over Tait. “Consider who the
fuck is talking here—just who the fuck is throwing down about the cock leading
the walk.”

BOOK: Wet For Her Warriors (Book 5 of the WILD -- Warriors Intense in Love & Domination -- Boys of Special Forces)
11.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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